


We are Fools

by realizingtheobvious



Series: We are Fools [1]
Category: Adventures of Sinbad, Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Sinbad no Bouken, Sinja, magi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realizingtheobvious/pseuds/realizingtheobvious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, Sinbad has grown to become the king that he is, with the help of his friend and advisor, Ja’far. Through their loyal bond, they endure their own trials, including ones of affection, and an everlasting facade that has transformed Ja’far for the better. In this chapter, the two end up butting heads before their meeting with a Magi, who holds many secrets to their success in erecting a new kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We are Fools Pt.1 -- The Fortune Teller’s Abode, several years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously based on recent developments the following are less likely to have full standing; written before Sinbad no Bouken began to teach us a few things. Regardless, I enjoyed writing it when I did, and I hope you all are still able to enjoy it as well!
> 
> \---
> 
> This fanfiction appeals to a juxtaposition of three main ideas (speculative theories), due to the lack of information we’ve been given thus far:
> 
> 1) Sinbad is in no way invincible, though he is capable of appearing that way despite his obvious flaws. He is given a fear of failure when he is not the only life at stake, but he is capable of hiding it, and also has a mild fear of public speaking that, in the end, he can overcome.
> 
> 2) Ja’far, in his earlier years, was capable of showing affection, but nonetheless was abrasive, sarcastic, and at times, violent. This attitude is carried over now into the present, where he can snap at times when he, or more notably Sinbad, are under duress. This fiction works to give a possible explanation for his change in attitude, and why at times he is still subject to anger and mercilessness.
> 
> 3) The relationship between these two is shown here to be a mixture of friendship, loyalty, and the love that is inherent and spawns from both of those things. It is meant to be a product of many years filled with experiences, including the dangers that Sinbad and his generals have endured, and the construction of the kingdom of Sindria. It is not, however, meant to be like an “affair”, which would suggest something completely secretive, discouraged, and sex-driven. Rather, their inner relationship (for a lack of better words) isn’t open to the public eye, but wouldn’t be seen as outrageous in the eyes of those closest to them. This theory based on speculations made about the time periods and places that the world of Magi is meant to mimic. 
> 
> The most important thing about this fanfiction is the contrast between the beginning and end, and how while the attitudes of the characters have progressed over time, they still share strong bonds that adapt just as readily as the characters themselves.
> 
> A note on the time period and setting (this is arbitrary due to a severe lack of information, especially regarding when Masrur was added to the troupe): This progresses from many years before, during Sinbad’s early 20s (approx 20-21) , Ja’far’s late-teens (about 16-17), and Masrur’s early teens (about 12-13), to the present, sometime after meeting Aladdin, Alibaba, and Morgiana. Meanwhile, the first two parts take place somewhere along the coast of Balbadd and northeastward along the coast. The last part takes place in Sindria.
> 
> Last note: From the information we do have, it is said that Sinbad founded Sindria after conquering his first dungeon, Baal (14 years prior to the present, around age 16). This fic suggests that the idea of the kingdom itself was conjured, but the actual nation had not yet come to fruition. So, the beginning two parts encompass parts of the planning process for the country.

The room was lukewarm, the furnishings, incongruous and mysterious. Swords lined the walls on haphazard fixings and shivered with each step Sinbad took across the creaking wooden floor. His shoes caught a few times in the rippled fabric of a dusty old rug, and each time he felt his heart leap up from his chest into his collar, where sweat collected in the summer heat. His stomach curdled under the scrutiny of anxiety and an intense hunger that had plagued him and his friends for days in the desert. His hands ran through his long and messy hair, quickly finding themselves running circles inside of his earrings: _Why am I so nervous? This shouldn’t be that hard_.

The youth that normally flared in his eyes and the adventurous spirit that inhabited his words dulled under his pulse’s violent assault against his resolve. He was Sinbad, a charismatic and invincible sailor who had brought a few dungeons under his wing. What did he have to worry about?

Ja’far rested with his back against an opposing wall with his arms crossed and a white keffiyeh balled up on the floor. His loosely-fitting beige clothing swayed with the small draft from outside, and he observed the boy from beneath the many flickering candle lights, slowly concentrating all movement to that of his eyes, and his eyes only. Bloodshot and judgemental, they refused to let the sailor out of their sights. After giving a growl from the back of his throat, the temperamental ally gave himself the pleasure of a sly grin, cackling, “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” Sinbad stopped his incessant walking and stared at him, “nothing at all.”

Ja’far motioned him over with his hand, rolling his eyes a bit. “C’mere.”

With the power of his self-meditation, the sound of his friend’s heartbeat had been more than obvious to his careful ears. It was clear, but nonetheless, paranoid. He needed to calm Sinbad before their meeting with the proclaimed fortune teller: His advice on their future was imperative, and in no way was Ja’far going to let Sinbad’s sudden unexpected cowardice jeopardize the chance they had with meeting with a willing Magi--though this one would not have been their first choice. Bygones would have to be bygones, if they wanted to follow in the Kou Empire’s footsteps and succeed.

The assassin set a hand on Sinbad’s shoulder and gave him an unruly stare as the body under his touch lurched.

“You cannot be afraid. It’s not an option. You’re never like this.” he said, cupping his hand along the sailor’s jugular, only to receive another wide-eyed look of shock.

“Your heart’s going to beat out of your chest, Sin. We don’t have a lot of time. What the hell’s got you caught up in your own mind?” the hoarseness of Ja’far’s voice back then never failed to light Sinbad off like a fuse to a barrel of explosive powder. Something about how intimidating it was, even in it’s condensed quietness--which made it inexplicably terrifying when it was raised--made his breath stall and his mind go blank. All he could do to avoid being belittled by it sometimes was to intensify his own volume.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for running an entire kingdom, have you ever thought of that, _Ja’far_?”

Ja’far didn’t move, blink, or breathe. He just stared with a stationary glare and waited a moment to watch Sinbad’s eyes fill with tears.

“What makes you think I could orchestrate the lives of thousands of people?!” yelled Sinbad, his voice cracking. “People are born into royalty. They don’t crawl from the depths of an ocean, covered in the shit of the sea! Don’t ask me what’s wrong, when you already know. Don’t ask me why I’m acting this way--because you should know!” tears began to stream down his face, tapping the floor on their way down. Ja’far still said nothing.

“I’m not like you. I’m fueled by emotion. It feeds my fire, my passion. Sometimes after so long, it gets to me, ok? Sometimes it’s a little much to ask a child to protect an entire village, let alone a country that has only begun!”

Ja’far’s grip tightened a bit as Sinbad’s hands rolled into shaking, hot iron-hard fists. He let out a slow exhale through his nose and forced his hand up to grip the boy’s jaw. His stare had Sinbad’s nose crinkled in anger and his teeth bared.

“Are you so weak as to let something so insignificant and inconsequential scare you right now? These people, as you said, do not yet exist. You haven’t eaten for days. Are you weak, Sinbad?” he pulled a little closer, getting his face within inches of the other’s heaving breaths as he punctuated the name.

“I am not weak.” growled Sinbad, who separated each word with laced spite. “I can overcome anyone, because I will conquer these seas. I can defeat anyone who intercepts my path. The only thing I cannot imagine, are countless faces staring at me, expecting me to do the right thing! Is that so hard to understand?”

“Prove your worth, then. If even I frustrate you so much, how are you going to protect your subjects?” Ja’far’s voice climbed in volume and he pulled Sinbad’s tunic roughly with his other hand. His strategy was going into effect. “Prove that you’re not a fucking coward!”

That shrill, abrasive voice, shelving its harshest point like a hive of bees upon an intruder, tipped the waters, and Sinbad’s determination spilled out, spreading into nothing: his thoughts froze. He couldn’t risk fighting this person, because in this unruly, starving state, he would undoubtedly lose at the hand of someone much calmer than he. How could he take someone by surprise who was incapable of being caught off guard? A few seconds passed as the sounds in the room echoed in a void of fiery anger.

“How are you going to do this if--” Ja’far was interrupted by something even he could not have expected.

His irises constricted as his spine was crashed back against the wall, his limited breath fleeing from his lungs. The lights blurred--Sinbad’s lips, tainted by the smell of salt, locked into his--their teeth met for a second, grating. By the time his wires were crossed, their sharp sides meeting readily against the back of the boy’s neck in a show of sparks, a tongue was pressed against his own. He tensed his body for a moment, only to limpen and give in, standing motionless in a dizzy, timeless moment. When he felt his wires slipping from his fingers, he snapped back into reality and recoiled with a satisfied smile. He grunted and shrugged.

“Not bad.”

“Bite me.” Sinbad whispered, stepping away and turning his back, knowing the battle was over. Ja’far wiped his lips with his arm and crouched down, admiring the spots of blood.

“If you want.”

“Shut up.”

“You failed,” said Ja’far, “you can’t let anything get to you. You can’t lose focus when someone infuriates you, Sin. You’ve failed a crucial test.” he stood and crossed his arms again, mending his brief lapse in concentration with another piercing stare and a return to a lower, quieted voice.  
    “I don’t care, you hypocrite. As far as I’m concerned, I passed my own test. I’m not afraid anymore,” boomed the sailor. He turned back around to face his friend and occasional adversary, standing tall with his hands on his hips. The youth flooded back into his eyes, and a sneering smile mapped his face as a few drops of blood broke from his lips and ran down his chin.

A door creaked open by a sliver, sending a ray of light up over Sinbad, landing its way to the center between Ja’far’s penetrating eyes. A mocking voice, male and saturated with entitlement, said: “Hurry it up. I’ve got other things to do, you know.”

Ja’far gave Sinbad a sigh and a nod, and they proceeded into their future.


	2. We are Fools Pt.2, I -- Down the road, hours later.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the years, Sinbad has grown to become the king that he is, with the help of his friend and advisor, Ja’far. Through their loyal bond, they endure their own trials, including ones of affection, and an everlasting facade that has transformed Ja’far for the better -- Pt.2, I.

     The colors of the daylight star, marooned in the sky like a ship lost in the torrents of the sea, melted under a wet and humid heat. Despite the pull of the ocean current, the sunset and breeze provided little comfort. Ja’far fastened his keffiyeh and groaned as the coming of night brought no relief. Masrur, who just barely met his height and was slender and yet muscular, mumbled an offer to shade him with a cloak from his bundle if it would be of any help. He was turned down with a lackluster smile and a motion towards Sinbad, who was stumbling on the other side.

    “You shouldn’t have drank so much of that wine. Look at you, not even able to get your hair back up.”

    “The shit’s expensive. I couldn’t turn it down--I was hungry. I’m still hungry. Besides, I couldn’t stand that guy’s--that guy’s--Juna’s--that guy’s attitude any longer.” Sinbad said, fruitlessly trying to tie his hair back as multiple strands stuck to to the sides of his face.

    “C’mon, Sin. Judal’s given us enough trouble, you should know his name even in intoxication. Now, let me help you.”

    “No. Ja’far, no. Don’t touch it. It’s fine--it’s beautiful. Stop.”

    “You’ve got it on sideways, dimwit.” Ja’far gave a laugh and grabbed the ponytail, lightly leading Sinbad towards him like a dog with its tail between its legs. He took the band out and put the hair up straight, flipping it forward to give him a good smack in the face.

    “Thanks, I guess.” Sinbad said, gratefully taking Masrur’s repeated request to shade him as the sun went down. The three split the last of their water and continued walking down the dusty road as the light of the sun peaked harshly over the dunes and the unforgiving ocean calmed to a rest. After another mile of wandering in their attempt to discover a path, for Drakon had given them terribly vague directions to the Dark Continent, where Masrur insisted on going, Sinbad’s legs began to buckle.

    “I need to piss.”

    “That’s what happens when you drink too much on an empty stomach before going out on a trek through the desert. You’re an idiot, you know.” Ja’far said, glancing over at Masrur, who gave a nod and stepped in front of Sinbad, looking back at him over his shoulder. Dehydrated and exhausted, he couldn’t resist.

    “You don’t need to do this. It’s embarrassing.” Sinbad whispered, his energy depleted.

    “It would be more disgraceful for you to die.” Masrur said, letting him carelessly jump up onto his back. The difference in size appeared awkward, but put little strain on the young Fanalis.

    “Besides, we can’t do shit without you.” Ja’far said, giving another sarcastic chuckle.

    “I’m glad I knew that I meant more to you two than that, because what would--what would that--mean. What does it--happen, when?” the sailor’s voice slurred, sped up, and slowed.

    Masrur gave his right shoulder a pat and mumbled something incomprehensible, but that sounded close enough to “put your head down” for Sinbad to get the message. He rested and glanced at Ja’far out of the corner of his eye. His last thought before welcoming sleep was about how lucky he was, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.


	3. We are Fools Pt.2, II -- just before sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the years, Sinbad has grown to become the king that he is, with the help of his friend and advisor, Ja’far. Through their loyal bond, they endure their own trials, including ones of affection, and an everlasting facade that has transformed Ja’far for the better. Pt.2, II.

Sinbad awoke to the feeling of hypothetical hammers and nails fastening a “never drink again, ever” sign to his forehead. The heat in the air had finally settled. He sighed, letting a chill run through his body before grasping a handful of sand from off the blanket on which he lay. A rattlesnake many feet away eyed him, and he stared back.

“Hello there, friend. I’d prefer if you stayed over there.” he whispered, determined not to wake up the other two, who lay peacefully beside him in the half lean-in tent. Masrur didn’t snore, but let out a small sound with each breath that sounded like a hybrid between a wheeze and a purr. Ja’far, keffiyeh pulled down over his eyes, made no noise.The snake slid its head up from its coil, and slowly began to slither closer, sending the hair on the back of Sinbad’s neck up.

“No, no, friend. Stay, stay back, please. I’m warning you.” he pleaded as he carefully slid onto his knees and searched around for his dagger, which had been removed from his side in his drunken slumber. He noticed the one sitting on Ja’far’s side and slid it from its holster, only to receive a cold hand around his wrist.

“It’s only a snake, it won’t hurt you if you’re nice to it. Put that back.” said Ja’far, who turned over. The dagger was returned to its place, and the snake had made its way onto the washed-up sailor’s leg.

“I know it won’t. That doesn’t mean I want it on me. Slimy little creature on my leg, I will have you know that I fear neither you nor your venom.”

“Then why is your hair standing up, still? Also, you know that snakes aren’t slimy. They’re more practical than people when it comes down to things, anyway.” Ja’far held his arm out, letting the snake curl around it and up around his neck.

“It’s a reflex!” said Sinbad in a muffled whine. “Is Masrur awake?”

“Do you think Ja’far kept watch all night?”

“Oh hey, Masrur.”

Nodding, Masrur stood to watch as the sun began to rise before claiming the languid duty of putting the tent away. Sinbad put a finger out, hoping for the snake to give him the same respect. It flickered its tongue a few times before sliding down from its perch into the sand.

“Fine, be that way.” Sinbad said, sighing. He noticed Ja’far stirring and asked if he needed any help, to which he received no reply.

The wind spun about for a second and sand shuttered against the tent-cloth. Once it ceased, and the three had rid themselves of the sand in their pockets, hair, and eyes, Sinbad turned and gave a couple informative coughs, which he repeated when neither Masrur nor Ja’far responded.

“Spill it.” the white haired boy said, angrily patting more sand from his torso.

“I was just thinking about something. Something that Judal recommended to us yesterday.”

“What would that be? And I can’t believe we even settled on listening to him.”

“I know, he’s a bastard who’s worth less than the pegs he sits on. It’s just that despite his arrogance, he has succeeded in producing kings, and--well, it sounded too right for me to ignore, even in my hatred for him. It’s about how we’re going to act if we want people to take us seriously.” he spat out the sand that had found its way between his teeth.

“He said that a king needs to be charismatic, but strong. He needs an advisor who is level headed, who can help him make decisions when things go wrong; then, he has to have strength in his army.” the tent was stored away, and they began their walk.

“You’re already strong, and I think you have more charisma than the entire country of Partevia combined.” Ja’far shook the goat-skin water bag that they shared and peered into it with an eye closed.

“I’m the army.” Masrur said, sending a pebble soaring many feet in the air down the road. “Too bad Ja’far can be more stubborn than an ass.”

Sinbad halted in his tracks, and it took a few moments for the others to realize that he’d stopped.

“What’s the hold-up?” Ja’far asked.

“I’d leave nobody else to do the job.” Sinbad whispered, running a hand through his bangs.

“What?”

“I said I wouldn’t want anyone else in the entire world to be my advisor, Ja’far.” he looked up with a smile. Ja’far rolled his eyes.

“Psh. Well, you’ll have to find yourself another one.” he turned and took a few steps forward. Sinbad looked as if someone had just taken a blade to his stomach, and he swallowed hard. The Fanalis-boy made no movement. The sailor proceeded with a different approach.

“Wait!” he rushed forward, pulling Ja’far’s sleeve while simultaneously losing his balance in the shifting sand. He took the other down with him and was on top of him immediately, infuriated by his lack of expression.

“I should know by now that you’re not being serious. I should be really fuckin’ sure. It’s just that every time you pull this shit I’m inclined to believe you. Want to know why?!”

Ja’far gave a familiar silence.

“It’s because I trust you. I believe everything you say, because I trust you. It drives me insane sometimes, but it’s probably a good thing. Please tell me it’s a good thing.”

Smiling a wicked smile, Ja’far grabbed him by the neck, thrusting him over so that he was on top this time. “It’s a great idea. I was kidding, but your blind naivety spawns amazing things. My loyalty to you will go on longer in years than this desert has grains of sand. I owe you that much. Of course I’ll be your advisor. Just tell me what to do.”

“You already know what that is, don’t you?” Sinbad’s smile returned and was bright and hopeful, though it was quickly extinguished as Ja’far pitter-pattered his face with sand.

“He needs to learn to hide some of his discontent. It’s not difficult.” Masrur said, pushing a little bit of sand onto Sinbad, slowly burying him.   
    “Well, aren’t you talkative today?” Ja’far joked, flicking more grains up at the red-headed boy. “You’re right, though. I’ll have to be personable. What a pity. I don’t particularly like deceiving people--”

“Bullshi--”

    “But, it won’t hurt the people who have never met me before. I’ve been told I’m a fantastic liar, especially by the people who believe everything I say.” he looked over at Sinbad before clearing his throat and holding a palm to his chest. In a kind voice, void of ruggedness or concentrated cynicism, he proudly said: “Welcome to Sindria. I bid you welcome, and may you enjoy your stay!”

    Sinbad burst out laughing and was quick to choke on his humor-induced tears, “It needs some work, but it’ll do!”

    “I don’t like it. It makes you a completely different person.” Masrur dictated, wrinkling his nose a bit in sudden disgust. “It’s hurting my ears. Change it back.”

    “The point is that I don’t, Masrur. That’s the one addendum that I’m adding to this deal, Sin.” he rose off of him, “Shut your mouth and listen to me.” Ja’far said in the same slightly enlightened voice, which really only felt that way in contrast to his previous one. It took a few exasperated minutes, but Sinbad finally came to from his fit of laughter.

While still grasping his sides and wiping away tears, he asked: “What is it?”

    Ja’far’s tone became completely serious in its new form. “You mustn’t let me lose myself in delirium. Allow me to only indulge in my prior hysteria in battle, or in matters most dire. Keep to this promise, so that I can truly be your voice of reason. Otherwise our journey will be null. You can’t do this by yourself. I will devote myself to your well-being, as well as to any of your allies. Just make sure I don’t get ahead of myself.”

    Sinbad held out a hand, straightening his back. “Alright. It’s a deal. Let it remain until the sea dries up.” they grasped hands and exchanged smiles.

    “Drakon’s going to hate this. You’ll have to transition into it slowly.”

    “Trust me, I will. Though, he’ll just have to learn to deal with it now, won’t he?”

    Masrur approached and attempted to wrap his arms around the both of them, trying to lift them up by their waists. “We’ll see if I can forget how annoying it is.”


	4. We are Fools Pt.3 -- near present day: A room in the White Aries Tower, Sindria. Night time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the years, Sinbad has grown to become the king that he is, with the help of his friend and advisor, Ja’far. Through their loyal bond, they endure their own trials, including ones of affection, and an everlasting facade that has transformed Ja’far for the better. Pt. 3.

The breeze, rolling in as a gift from the hands of the sea, kissed the many lanterns lighting the night festival. It danced with them in a silent and diaphanous waltz, holding them close as the crowds infiltrated the courtyard and bazaar. Thousands of delightful, well-nourished faces, dotted with joyous and wine-relished shadows, transformed the island of Sindria into a glowing star with their smiles and their laughter. Pisti, who soared the air on bird-back, dazzled the crowd with streamers and a choir of singing parrots, while giving occasional looks to a window of White Aries Tower, where Sinbad stood, gazing out at his people.

_What’s keeping him?_ she thought, going into a choreographed nose dive, only to save herself at the last second. The crowd applauded with a roar, and even Masrur, who stood guard at the entrance to the Tower, gave a bit of a chuckle.

Sinbad watched the festivities while a full and luscious murmur surrounded his heart and lungs. A warmth filled him with every festival, no matter how frequently they were held. The happiness of his people was all that truly mattered, and despite his failures in the past, he looked to the successes to remind himself that all of the blood, pain, and turmoil had been worth it. The cool air skimming the sea draped his face, and he let his eyes water under the caress. Reflexes were something to be cherished. This night, he praised the beauty of the stars for helping him abstain from liquor: it was too glorious to cover with a drunken mirk, too fulfilling. There was a knock at the door.

“Feel free to enter.” Sinbad said, running his hands along the cold stone windowsill. He took notice of every crater and divet. The room served as a resting area for after meetings and provided decorative couches and soft rugs to mask where marble flagstone conjoined with slate-grey. The single window provided the only light, making the room the darkest, and most serene in the tower.

“His Majesty welcomes me, I see. Harking the sounds of the night again?” Ja’far said with an exquisite tone, entering with his hands intertwined beneath his large sleeves.

“So formal.” the king whispered wistfully as he leaned forward and put both hands on opposite sides of the sill, continuing to run his thumbs along the stone.

“That would be my duty.” the advisor replied, joining Sindbad’s side. He too welcomed the briny scent of the ocean.

“It’s not a burden?”

“Not any more.” Ja’far’s breath quivered a bit as he uncovered his arms and allowed the breeze to flow up them, “Questions that you already know the answer to shouldn’t be asked. It can be insulting.”

“Hypocrite!” Sinbad proclaimed as he gave the other a delighted smirk.

Ja’far removed his jeweled keffiyeh for a moment to ruffle a hand through his hair. “Look at all of the fish.”

“Hm?”

Out in the court, servers appeared with platters full of fish. Their scales were a myriad of colors and reflected the light. The smell was irresistible and potent, and many mouths began to water.

“I was worried for a while about this week’s income of fish, that’s all. They weren’t falling to the bait or the nets for some reason earlier, and despite the endeavors of the boatmen, little progress was being made. I’m pleased to see that the pieces fell together and that the fishermen are satisfied.”

“It makes for less of a hassle if you don’t have to settle disputes between mingled nets, too. If the fish are plentiful, there aren’t going to be arguments over whose is whose.” said Sinbad. Children ran about, flying kites in the shapes of dragons and serpents under the drafts.

“Is there something else you needed, Ja’far?”

“There are documents downstairs for tomorrow morning. You have an address to give to those in the harbor tomorrow on account of their efforts.” Ja’far said, returning the headdress to where it belonged.

“All right.” the king snickered a few times before ceding to a hearty laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I found something this afternoon that you might find interesting.” he reached into his tunic and pulled out an old goat-skin water container. Ja’far’s eyes lit up and he too laughed.

“Sin, I thought you lost that when we were leaving Balbadd all those years ago!”

“I guess not. I must have left it in our pack or something stupid like that.” he laughed again with a mischievous grin, “You threw such a fit when we lost the thing.”

“They were so expensive! It cost us a week to pay for another out of pocket, you imbecile!” Ja’far pushed the king’s arm hard enough to set him off balance. “I can’t believe that you found the damn thing.”

“Yeah, I can’t either.”

“Well, reminisce in the memory for me, because I should be going--I have my own part in these silly games.” the advisor said, referring to a skit where he was forced to play an assassin attempting to murder the king, only to be vanquished by a stream of unfortunate, and comedic events; it had been his idea, though he never admitted it.

“Put that somewhere so you don’t lose it again. We wouldn’t want to go without water in the middle of the desert now, would we?”

“One more thing.”

“I’m trying to keep on track of things; brevity is the key to this discussion, Sin.”

Sinbad asked if it was possible for him to speak in his old accent without provocation.

Ja’far claimed that he couldn’t and shrugged off the question as if it was something that should be obvious. Months of pretending had likened his attitude to that of true humbleness and professionalism, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of lashing out at times, if he couldn’t help it.

“You’ve kept your promise, Sin. I’m not sure how, but you have managed to conquer fear, as well as watch over me, lest I become a liability to Sindria. Why do you ask?”

The king gave a light sigh and remained silent for a few seconds. He grasped one of Ja’far’s hands, pulling him out of the view of the widow. The other complied, letting Sinbad brisk over his hands softly before putting his heavily-jeweled arms on either side of the smaller’s body, resting his large palms on the wall.

“No reas--things are just uncertain, that’s all.”

“Understandable.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Sinbad’s voice dropped a bit. It sounded like a confused plea for contradiction.

Ja’far stepped forward a bit, grounding his right foot into the floor between the king’s legs so that he wouldn’t have to resort to standing flimsily on his toes. His voiced changed as well, though it took on a caustic form that the king hadn’t heard since their last encounter with Judal. He ran his hands up and over the other’s shoulders and wrapped his arms loosely around his neck . Willingly, he glared into his eyes and said: “No.”

“Good. I don’t know what I would do if you were. It’s just that with power comes recklessness, and from that I’ve fallen one too many times. I fear becoming a tyrant in my obscurity as ruler of this nation, and even if I’ve expressed this enough times, it always comes back to me and forces me to consider it--to consider what it would be like to throw concern and caution to the darkness and let it grow. Is it so ridiculous to still feel this way, even as the King of the Seven Seas?” Sinbad said, putting his hands behind Ja’far’s back.

In his coarse tone--despite the difficulty to sustain it--the shorter of the two said with a sly grin: “Yes, it’s ridiculous--but, it’s natural.” he cackled, “How could I be afraid of someone who can’t even find himself a wife and has to resort to his humble advisor?”

The mogul of the sea pulled back enough to cup his hand over the side of Ja’far’s neck, causing the hands behind his back to rest on his towering shoulders.

“You know that’s not my problem,” he wasn’t surprised by how steady the stark heartbeat beneath his fingers was, “don’t act so naive.”

“I know. I just thought I would try to scare you.” Ja’far said, allowing his voice to rebound back into its conditioned demureness.  

“After all these years, you’re still giving me tests.”

“You’ve passed almost all of them.”

“I hope I’ve at least tested you a bit. It’s only fair.”

“Each day is a test with you, and you know it.” the immaculate way that Ja’far pronounced the words was beginning to sound more and more coy, and it made Sinbad chuckle.

“I know I’m a little hard to deal with sometimes.”  

To give the king a continued stream of confidence, the advisor broke his gaze and sent it to the side while unconsciously biting his lower lip. He choked back a laugh of his own. “That’s an understatement.”

Tense quietness ensued between them as the sounds of the crowd escalated. By the enormity and capriciousness of the fireworks, it was clear that Yamraiha and Hinahono had taken the reins. After the booms and spits of fire stopped, Sinbad wanted to bring eye-contact back into the conversation. He ran a hand up the back of Ja’far’s neck, mingling a few fingers in the hair under his keffiyeh, which caused the intended response.

“Have I ever told you how grateful I am?”

“Many times.” Ja’far muttered. “I do enjoy it.” he softened his eyebrows while tightening his arms back around his king’s neck.

“I wasn’t really referring to that. Is it so hard to control yourself, Ja’far?”

“I know that’s not what you meant, and you know how unquestionable my control can be.”

Sinbad held back an excited shiver as he felt fingers clutching and stroking his hair. He acknowledged the feeling by skillfully bringing his face closer to the other’s.  

“Sin, we are fools. But, we’ve honed our art: You’re no more a jester than I am a king. I can only hope I’ve been a as useful a shield as you’ve been a sword.” Ja’far said as he quickly glanced down to the king’s lips and back up to his eyes.

“Sindria prospers under you, and your enemies hesitate before facing you in battle. The years have provided me with enough practice to learn to sweep jealousy under the rug and see what’s important, even if it’s still hard sometimes to see you in your pleasure-gilded facade.” it was his turn to try and ignore the sensation of a warm and gentle hand against the side of his face. His failure was imminent as he inhaled a quaky breath.

“Women and drink steal you, but I realize it’s only my weakness that makes me feel so tense when thinking about it, especially when I myself am guilty of falling to such temptations--though I’m not nearly as able when it comes to holding down liquor; thankfully, it is my strength that makes me indifferent to it all.”

“Indifferent to all, excluding me?”

“Yes, you idiot. Excluding you.”

Sinbad softly pushed the other back against the wall so that he could come within centimeters of his mouth.

“I haven’t heard anything that metaphoric slip from between those serpent-teeth in forever.” he said, with a breathy, exasperated whisper.

Ja’far gave a shrug.

“Thank you again, sincerely.” he kissed the man subtly on the cheek, dotting a few freckles before moving to his mouth.

Ja’far countered, digging his fists into the fool’s back, pulling him closer so that their chests collided. He turned his head and slid his mouth open so that Sinbad could explore his mouth a bit, and finally, his heartbeat gave in to insanity.

By now, the king’s hands were forced down to the small of the shorter man’s back, where he slid them into the strip of fabric that held his attire in place from the center. Fingers traveled through his hair down the top of his spine as Ja’far let out an accidental--and at the same time coquettish--sigh. He held the very edge of his lips to Sinbad’s as he smiled and mumbled, “Masrur.”

An obtrusive knock came from behind them.

“The crowd is calling for the king. Also, Sharrkan is also demanding that you meet him, Ja’far. He’s becoming rather irritating.”

Neither of the two moved, though Ja’far told Masrur that he’d be right out, and for him to wait a moment. Sinbad said that he needed a couple seconds to collect his thoughts.

“All right.” Masrur said, resting against the door with his arms crossed. He attempted to catch the advisor’s smell as he usually did, and like every other time he had tried, was unable to find anything. Next, he focused on Sinbad’s racing heartbeat, mumbling: “...one person. It always feels like there’s only one person.”

Ja’far pulled back from the embrace and ran his hands along the king’s shoulders to kindly straighten out the now wrinkled white garb.

“I’ll have to leave you to your speech. Good luck.”

“No, good luck to you. I’ll do my best to impress my nation. You’ll need help if you want to get past Sharrkan.”

“Say that to my eyes. He won’t stop speaking of a dark pencil that he’s going to outline them with. It’s completely inaccurate to assassin attire--it renders it moot, really--but he insists that it adds to the mystique of the performance, so I must comply.” he nodded in satisfaction at the neatness of the king. “Don’t take too long, you have your people to satisfy. I hope you aren’t nervous.”

Sinbad spun on his heel and swiftly made his way to the window, where his confident and powerful voice, full of the feeling of many adventures since departed, said: “I am. But I won’t let that stop me.”


End file.
